


we're on each other's teams

by clxude



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 11:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9606539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clxude/pseuds/clxude
Summary: They lose, and it hurts, but it isn't forever.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smokeandshadows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokeandshadows/gifts).



> happy birthday bb hoe  
> title from some lorde song idk

They lose the game. 

 

Hajime feels like he’s swallowing down gasoline when the announcer calls out the score, when Kindaichi misses the block, when Oikawa isn’t lined up for the receive properly, when the volleyball hits the ground.

 

They could have done better.

 

He tells himself this even when he can’t change a thing, even when he knows this is the end of the line. There’s a certain kind of stillness, in those first few seconds, when everything suddenly becomes perfectly clear, before the fans start to scream.

 

This is the end - there’s no next game, no next tournament. There is no  _ Seijoh  _ for him to be the ace of anymore. There’s just Iwaizumi Hajime, third year high school student. He’s never been one to hold grudges or long for more, but still, he wishes he won.

 

…

 

Oikawa is the only one who doesn’t cry, but Hajime can see the tenseness in his shoulders, the slight tremors in his hands, the limp in his walk. 

 

Irihata forces him to stop by the infirmary before the team leaves for dinner, but there’s little the nurses can do there besides slapping on another ace bandage before handing over some ice and painkillers. Hajime stands in the doorway, nails cutting into his palms. His hands  _ ache,  _ but what does that matter, when his best friend has torn himself limb from limb for a one sided love affair?

 

…

 

They hold hands under the table. It’s hard for Hajime to eat without his right hand and with his left shaking, but he holds on anyway, never letting Oikawa go.

 

He fakes a smile for the first years even if they barely notice, Kunimi asleep under one of the benches and Kindaichi crying even as he shovels food into his mouth.

 

…

 

There is no  _ we’ll make it next year! _ \- not for Hajime, at least. He doesn’t have any idea of what he wants to do, and somewhere along the line, his parents made it seem like his only option was to go into accounting, just like them.

 

But for Oikawa, there’s still volleyball - playing for one of the top universities in the country. Or, maybe there isn’t, anymore, after the loss to Karasuno. Lose to a no name school, lose your spot. No one wants a failure on their team, and certainly not one of the champions.

 

…

 

It’s dark - the kind that creeps into your soul and purges your heart of everything, until you are just an empty husk, shaking in the wind.

 

Isn't it easier - to exist in the darkness?  _ Blind. _

 

There is nothing here - nothing to hurt you, cut you, leave you bleeding.  _ Emotionless.  _

 

But you’re stronger than this, aren’t you?  _ Aren’t you? _

 

...

 

Oikawa bites into his shoulder, teeth sharp. It hurts, oh how it  _ hurts,  _ cutting deep. It’s grounding, invigorating, even as he can feel Oikawa’s tears sliding down the length of his spine.

 

There’s swelling along the setter’s ribs, and Hajime presses ever so slightly, drawing out a gasp, soft breathing creeping from his shoulder to the hollow of his throat.

 

“Don’t let go,” Oikawa whispers, more breath than actual words. “Or I’ll never forgive you.”

 

…

 

Things are different in the morning, paler, less drastic. Hajime’s shoulder aches, but he doesn’t know if it’s from the two games the day before or the massive bruise Oikawa decided to leave behind.

 

He’s laying beside him, blankets twisted against his long legs. He looks like porcelain, flawless china. Pristine, but breakable. Hajime’s seen him shatter, come apart like glass. He wishes he could put him back together permanently, seal him up somewhere unreachable. 

 

But Oikawa is stronger than that. He’s breakable, yes, but he doesn’t need Hajime to protect him. He just needs Hajime there to catch him if he falls.

 

…

 

And he falls, scratches the bottom of Heaven and comes racing back to earth. Oh, Starchild, you’ve roamed too far, haven’t you? Come to expect too much of yourself and now there’s nothing left, just blood in your mouth, dripping down your chin.

 

_ “You’re okay,”  _ he says, because there’s nothing else - just holding him, gripping his jaw and wiping the tears away. “You’re okay, Tooru.”

 

Piecing Oikawa back together, holding in his own tears. Gives him something to bite as he chokes back his cries, all the while telling him it will be okay.

 

Catch him when he falls, hold him close until he heals. It’s all you can do.

 

“You’re okay.”

 

…

 

By midsummer, Oikawa transfers. Once he lost his volleyball scholarship and his only draw to the university, there wasn’t any point. He crashes in Hajime’s apartment, steals his clothes, leaves sticky notes with doodles of plants and planets and scowling faces labeled as  _ ‘iwa-chan!’  _

 

Hajime hates it at first, or he pretends to, at first, but he still smiles when he wakes up beside Oikawa, hair messy and drool drying on his cheek. It’s moments like these, when he drops the perfect facade and becomes human that makes him almost redeemable. 

 

…

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, when it’s still the early hours of the morning, with the sun just beginning to crest the horizon as Oikawa breathes slowly, arm thrown across Hajime. “I should have made that spike.”

 

It’s pointless to think back on that game, when it was three years ago. He doesn’t know Seijoh anymore, when the last of the first years graduated a few weeks ago. There’s nothing to miss anymore, not really.

 

But, at the same time, it’s hard to let go, when he still wakes up at four AM to an empty bed, Oikawa out in the kitchen, headphones jammed on while he watches the final game, eyes wide as he takes in every tiny mistake he made, every possible advantage he overlooked.

 

_ “We could have won,”  _ he says every time, eyes wide, hollow and dim.  _ “We were stronger.” _

 

But, even as your past haunts you, creeps up on your and sinks in its fangs, nostalgia doesn’t tell the truth; your memory is a lie.

 

_ “No, we couldn’t. They beat Shiratorizawa. It wasn’t meant to be, Tooru.” _

 

And still, he apologizes, even as the moon fades.

 

…

 

_ So, say it ended differently. _

 

_ Tell yourself you won, beat Karasuno. _

 

_ Tell yourself you beat Ushijima, stood over him and Shiratorizawa victorious.  _

 

_ But what about nationals? Could we really win there? I don’t think so, but even if we did, even if we were the one in a million high school team that went all the way? What would it mean? _

 

_ You would go to a different university at the other end of the country. We would lose touch, no matter what you tell yourself. Splinter, like a kaleidoscope. End of the line, Tooru, end of the story.  _

 

_ But, for what it’s worth, I’m glad we lost, so we could have this - our never ending story. _

 

…

 

They’ve been watching the stars for what seems like years, following their trajectory. Oikawa’s hand in his, warm and soft, despite the cold air. It feels like a dream, the kind sewn by fever and sweat, hallucinogens and stardust, oxytocin and vasopressin.

 

They’re twenty eight, now, and the world doesn’t seem quite so big, quite so large as it did back in high school. It’s dark, just them and the moon - silver, liquid, and intoxicating. Spun gold binding them together, interlocking links, welding two souls together.

  
_ I’m yours, but I don’t know why. _

**Author's Note:**

> I LOVE YOU DALEY DON'T HATE ME  
> tumblr - violet-boy; mother-iwa-chan  
> twitter - cactixix


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